We Celebrate as We Innovate
by J23K
Summary: A demon hunter and a witch walk into a cafe ... but are they really three-dimensional enough for this to be a good story? ONE-SHOT. Written as a contender for the Writers Anonymous 10 Year Challenge.


**Authors Note :** This is another experimental fic serving as a one-shot. It was written for the Writer's Anonymous Ten Year Challenge. Do definitely let me know your thoughts on this one but more specifically if it worked :)

And know that I love you guys!

 **We Celebrate as We Innovate**

" _Why ten years_?" he said - right in her ear.

His voice drilled deep into Hermione Granger's brain and she jumped, her eyes bolting up from her tray and into his own. "Sorry?"

The man in front of her was tall; a white head of hair and stubble. He didn't look older than thirty or so. "Your book," he said with an American accent, "the Evolution of Mankind in the last ten years … why ten years?"

She took a glance at the book neatly placed on the far corner of her tray, then picked up a Blueberry muffin from the counter without looking at him and shuffled along the queue. "It's not hugely conventional talking into someone's ear like that."

The man shuffled along the queue with her. "According to who?"

The cashier noted the price and Hermione pulled out a five pound note from her bag, handing it to the cashier and taking her change. "Society," she said, "excuse me."

She walked away from the man, not waiting for a reply and found an empty seat in the café. She slid into the chair and brushed back her hair. Then she opened her book to her bookmark.

The man came and sat in the chair opposite her.

Her eyes glanced up from her book, doing a double-take when she realised it was the man who was just with her in the queue. She wasn't really expecting that.

He was slumped back into the chair, one leg crossed haphazardly over the other. "You never answered my question."

She closed her book, keeping her finger in the pages so she didn't lose where she was. "It threw me off. Look Mr …"

"Dante," he smirked.

She smiled. "I don't mean to be rude, but I want to read this book if that's okay with you."

"Oh it's more than okay with me," Dante said, "but I'm gonna sit here and try to read you for a while - _if that's okay with you_."

What an odd choice of words. Read her? " _Sorry_?"

"You say 'sorry' a lot."

Hermione's fists clenched. "It's more out of sheer disbelief than anything else."

"Oh," he said, "do you find yourself to be in sheer disbelief often?"

" _Only with certain people_ look … I do apologise Mr …"

" _Dante_ ," Dante smirked.

It was such a different name. "Right, Dante," she said, "But can I help you at all?"

Dante nodded. "Actually you can. I want you to prove you're not as one-dimensional as you look."

Hermione's jaw dropped – placing down the book and glaring at both his eyes. "Well as nice as it is to hear your opinions on me, I don't want to talk to you right now. I'd just like to read my book. You can go and hit on any of the other girls in this place."

He placed his elbow on the table, his chin going into the open palm. "But you seem like you _could be interesting_ ," Dante said, "you seem like you could be a three-dimensional character. Like this book you're reading? What's that about?"

Hermione leaned forwards. "Believe it or not, it's exactly as the title suggests. It's about the evolution of Mankind over ten years."

"Hmm," Dante said, "the evolution or the devolution?"

Okay, she was going to humor him. "What do you mean – devolution?"

He shrugged. "All this Facebook and Instagram and Instant Messaging has made us anti-social really … zombies … suddenly it's so much harder to go into a café and strike up a random conversation with a beautiful woman like yourself than it was ten years ago."

"Is that right," she said dryly.

"Actually," he continued, "we've changed more in the last ten years than in the last two thousand years combined. Doesn't that seem kinda odd?"

Hermione shook her head. "No it isn't odd. It's made us more social."

"How so?" he asked.

She shrugged. "We can connect with people from all around the world whenever we want. That's not devolution – _that's evolution_. I can post into a forum and get help from any other party anywhere in the world. We help each other to build a better future. I can talk to anyone, anywhere at any time."

"And so you're willing to strike up a conversation with a random stranger today?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not at this present moment, instead I'm going to read my book. But thank you for your time mister."

" _Dante_."

She knew his name she wasn't asking his name she was just calling him mister. She picked up her book again, shaking her head and putting her face inside it.

He was still sitting there, smirking at her.

She buried her face deeper into the book; trying to ignore his presence.

"Hey, what's this?" he asked.

She didn't look at him now. "I have no doubt it's something really interesting and entertaining."

"Yeah, no doubt," he said, "looks like a finely polished twig or something."

Hermione's eyes shot up from her book.

He was holding her wand, smirking as he did.

Fear bolted through her, and her hand instinctively grabbed for it. " _That's not yours!_ "

He yanked the wand away, putting it closer to his face. "It's so well-crafted and smooth. Did you make it?"

She inhaled sharply, grabbing for her wand again. " _Give it back to me_!"

"You can have it back," Dante said, "when you have a conversation with me."

She fumed. "Or I can just call the police."

"Yeah but by that time I'll probably snap it," Dante shrugged, "and I dunno it seems like a pretty expensive twig."

Yes, it was expensive! She grabbed for it again. " _Give it back!_ "

He pushed her forehead away with his hand, smirking as he did. "How now, brown cow?"

Her teeth gritted, her eyes darting around to see if anyone would help her.

"By the time you call anyone else, I'll have snapped it," he said.

Her eyes bolted to his – wide and seething. " _That's not yours._ "

"So you keep telling me," Dante said, "look, just humor me and play my game with me. Prove that we aren't as one-dimensional as I think. That we do actually have pathos and origins and character development arcs within ourselves as people. And that we've moved forward in the past ten years, not backwards."

She clenched her fists again, her eyes attempting to burn into his. "And how do you propose I should prove my _pathos, origins_ and _development arcs_ to you over the past ten years?"

"We have a conversation," Dante said, "and in the conversation, you _show_ me and not _tell me_ what you're really about. Because Lord knows I want to be _shown_ your story, not _told_ it."

"And how do you propose I show you what I'm really about?"

"Let's see where the conversation takes us and we can work it out from there."

She put her hands on the table. "Okay fine. Let's have a conversation. And then you _return my stick._ "

He nodded, clearing his throat. "Hello."

Her hands clenched. "Hi."

"Lovely weather we're having."

Hermione squinted. "England isn't exactly known for it's fine weather."

"Well, I like it," he smirked, "you lived in England your whole life?"

"Yes, whilst I'm not mingling with strange men in café's I live slightly further from the city. When is this conversation going to go into _pathos, origins and development arcs?_ "

"Patience, young grasshopper …"

" _I'm not a grasshopper._ "

"And what's the book about?"

She narrowed her eyes. "The last ten years of mankind marked the start of a new era. That's what the book's about."

"Intriguing. The era where nobody talks to anybody anymore?"

"It's called the Information Era."

"Because we just stay glued to our phones and nobody talks to anybody anymore?"

She cocked her head. "Because information is now easier to find than ever before."

"Is that really a good thing?"

"Why would it be a bad thing?"

Dante shrugged.

She shook her head. "Now people can go online and share ideas and talk to each other. We have more ways of finding information than ever before."

"How so?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I don't know take … writing forums for example; these forums have been made to help writers become even better writers. People don't just help each other; they share ideas and cohesively make new stories and concepts. They make stories that people read for _years and years_ afterwards."

"Interesting example."

She shrugged. "Well, I like writing stories sometimes so it's the only one that came to my head."

"You like writing stories and _you are in a story_."

What? She was in a story? "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dante shrugged. "You have your own pathos, origins and development arc that's completely different to mine. We're written into two separate universes."

"You're very strange."

Dante nodded. "So if we really are all in a story, what is the relevance of this twig?"

She was hugely tempted to just use one of her spells without her wand. But that would cause a lot of alarm in a room full of muggles. "It's a personal keepsake. Why did you take it from my bag?"

"Jeez – are we gonna keep going over this …"

"No, but why _that_?" she asked. "It was buried right in the bottom of my bag, so it's not like you just picked up the first thing you saw – you dug deep for it – why?"

Dante looked at the wand in his hands. "You want the truth?"

Hermione nodded.

"It's got a lot of magical energy in it so I was attracted to it."

Hermione's heart rose to her throat. Her hands clenched up and her teeth gritted. She might have to use a spell now; in front of all these muggles. This could get messy very quickly. "Who are you, really?"

"The better question is _who are you?_ " Dante said, "see in a room full of stories that aren't worth looking into, you have a twig in your bag and are reading a book about the evolution of mankind over the past ten years."

She shrugged, twisting her ring. "Maybe I just like living simply. Now who are …"

"It's all a bit convenient, no?"

"What does it matter?" she snapped, "who are you?"

"Answer my question and I'll tell you."

She screamed through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing at him. "Convenient how?"

"You … me … a café in the middle of England and a book about ten years of evolution? Like everything was written to meet at this point."

" _That's your opinion._ And a stupid one at that. You came and talked to me; that was your own decision nothing was written."

Dante smirked.

Hermione leaned forwards. "Now it's your turn. Who are you?"

Dante sniffed. "I kill demons for a living. That's my _story._ "

Hermione looked deeply into his eyes. "Is that the truth?"

"I don't know, you're the witch. You tell me."

Hermione's whole body tensed and her face dropped, her eyes darting around to see if anyone had heard that. "How can you possibly know that?"

"So it's true? You're a magical being?"

She was flustered. "No! I mean … _who are you?!_ "

"I told you, I hunt demons."

"You … I …"

"We're from two different worlds; I guess. But today, we're sitting here, and we're talking about ten years of evolution. Because that's the story that's being told. Speaking of which, how did you get into these kind of theory books?"

" _How do you know who I am_?"

"You must have been readin' em' for years. You're twenty five now, right?"

Her eyes went wide. "Wha – _how do you know my age_?!"

Dante sucked in breath through his teeth. "So …" he pulled out a red parchment from his pocket, "I kind of have your _passport_ too."

Her jaw dropped.

"Well, you're a magical being," he said, "you seemed interesting!"

" _Please_ stop saying that here!" Her eyes darted around as her voice lowered to a whisper. " _Stop saying that._ "

"Why? Do you think they care?" Dante said.

"I … _yes!_ Say it loud enough and they will!"

"Huh," Dante said, "why all the secrecy?"

"Because … that's how we live! Now stop talking, I _beg of you_."

Dante said nothing for a long while. "You're Tea's gonna get cold."

Her eyes stared into his for a while. "How do you know who I am? And know that the next words out of your mouth should be _carefully considered_."

Dante chuckled. "That a threat?"

She nodded.

He leaned forwards, a smirk still plastered to his face. "Like you, I'm a magical being."

" _You're not a wizard,_ " she said, "I would be able to tell if you're a wizard."

"No you're right. I'm not a wizard. I'm just a protagonist from a different universe."

"How are you here?"

"I crossed over."

"When?"

"When it was written that I should."

"And … you decided to come talk to me?"

Dante nodded. "You radiate magical energy like a _lamp_."

Hermione had never ever thought she radiated any energy; let alone that of a lamp.

He picked up her Tea, placing it to his lips and taking a gulp. "And so we're two strangers from two separate worlds that have had our fair share of stories for our dimensions, is that right?"

" _That was my Tea._ "

He nodded. "I know, _it's good._ "

Hermione said nothing, her eyes fixed on his as she contemplated what to do next.

"I kind of want to read some of the stories from your dimension now," he said, "I'm sure they'd be totally different than the ones from mine. And I should really start drinking Tea – this stuff is great."

Hermione watched him drink her tea. "You're very different."

Dante chuckled. "Says the witch."

Her eyes darted around as she checked to see if anyone had heard him again.

"Relaaax, no-one heard me GOD. Look Ms …"

Hermione said nothing.

"This is where you're supposed to say your name."

"Hermione," she smirked.

"Odd name."

She said nothing, still smirking.

"Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue," he said.

"And Dante does?"

"Well, yeah, for one it's got less syllables. I mean in this day and age who can really be bothered to say Hermione? We shorten haha to a 'LOL'."

He did have a point there. "How long did you say you were staying here for?"

"Why? You crushing on me, Granger?"

"How do you know my second name is Granger?"

"Oh, well … _your passport_."

" _Of course,_ " she shook her head, chuckling slightly, " _of course that's why._ "

They both said nothing for a long time, smiling and looking at one another.

"So two strangers from two separate universes having a drink?" she asked.

Dante nodded. "Well – technically I'm having _your drink_."

"And why are we having this drink?"

"Celebration," Dante said, lifting the cup.

"Celebration of what?"

"Innovation. And ten years of stories, Hermione. Mine and yours. And ten years of people helping other people to make better stories."

Hermione smirked. She couldn't really understand what he was saying, but she could relate to him somehow. "We're celebrating the innovation of _stories_ over the past ten years?"

"We're celebrating the innovation of _community_ in stories over the past ten years, yeah," Dante smirked.

She leaned back, her hand going to the table. "So did I meet your origin, ethos and development arc requirements?"

He shrugged. "Someone seeing this from the outside would probably be a better judge of that."

"Seriously, you're a very _strange man._ "

He nodded. "And now I have to leave. Because this story's kind of over. Maybe soon I'll cross over again and have some other adventure with you."

"Just like that?" she asked.

"Don't see it as an end, Granger. See it as a maybe."

She nodded. " _Maybe?_ "

"Maybe we'll fall in love."

She chuckled. " _Sorry_?"

"Or maybe it'll be a mystery or some kind of horror or a comedy."

"Maybe. Maybe all of the above?"

He pointed at her, "yeah maybe Granger! I'd love to see a mystery-horror-comedy done well."

She nodded, smiling with both hands on the table.

"Maybe it's not such a bad world after all," he said.

"I guess the magic of stories makes it a little easier to trudge through," she said.

Dante acknowledged this. "You think?"

Hermione nodded. "Well yeah. I mean for a minute or ten or an hour you're somewhere else. You're immersed in someone else's fantasy and for that time - _for that time_ \- you're no longer who you are but a whole different being in a whole different world."

Dante nodded. "Huh. I guess you are. Then to ten years of writers helping each other write better stories."

"I'd drink to that," she said solemnly, "but you drank my _Tea._ "

"Oh," he smirked, "my bad."

She smiled, sitting back in her chair with her legs crossed.

"I'll see you later on Granger," he said, "this isn't a goodbye though …"

"It's a maybe?"

He pointed two fingers at her. "Now you're getting it."

And then he left the store.

And she watched him leave, and then watched through the window as he crossed the street and vanished out of sight. Then her eyes shot to the empty place. " _To ten years of writers helping each other become better writers._ "

 _She'd drink to that._

 **Authors Note :** This was a good opportunity to be a celebration for stories. They really are a certain type of magic that can't be understated. I really hope we all continue writing for years and years to come and through each other become better writers and readers.


End file.
